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Worth Every Penne —rsquo; The Recipe I Return to When the Kitchen Is the Only Place Left to Go

The last day of January. February comes tomorrow with its short days and its Valentine's marketing and the approach of March, which I have learned to approach as I approach a large cooking project—with preparation, with intention, with the full knowledge of what it requires and the full commitment to doing it anyway. This year March third falls on a Tuesday, which means I will be at Bernice's Table when the day turns over. I have already decided what will be on the menu: Marcus's favorites. Mac and cheese. Fried chicken. Collard greens. Sweet potato pie. The food I made every time he was the reason for the occasion. He is still the reason. He always will be.

I got a letter in the mail this week—a physical letter, handwritten, in an envelope with a Memphis return address—from a woman who said she had been reading my blog posts since the beginning and that she wanted me to know that last March third she had made mac and cheese at four in the morning for the first time since her son died. She said she used my narrative as a guide. Not the recipe—she had her own recipe—but the permission, the understanding that the middle-of-the-night kitchen was a legitimate place to grieve and to return. She said she ate it at the counter, crying, and that it tasted like her son.

I sat down when I read this. I had to sit down. Not because it was sad—it was not sad, or not only—but because the woman in Memphis and I had been in the same kitchen, in the same grief, in the same four in the morning, and we had never met and would probably never meet, and we were nonetheless feeding each other, me through the words and she through the making, and the chain runs and the table has room and the food reaches and I could feel Bernice nodding, wherever she is, saying yes. Yes. This is it. This is exactly it.

When I think about what to put alongside this story — Loretta’s story, the woman in Memphis, the four in the morning and the counter and the crying — I keep coming back to pasta. Not because it’s the same as mac and cheese, but because it lives in the same neighborhood: hot, cheesy, made with your hands, ready to hold you. Worth Every Penne is the recipe I reach for when the occasion is grief and the hour is impossible and what I need is something that fills the kitchen with a smell that says someone is here, someone is tending to something. It feeds a crowd or it feeds just you, which is the whole point. It is worth every single thing it costs you to make it.

Worth Every Penne

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 1 lb penne pasta
  • 1 lb ground beef (80/20)
  • 1 medium yellow onion, diced
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 jar (24 oz) marinara sauce
  • 1 cup ricotta cheese
  • 2 cups shredded mozzarella, divided
  • 1/2 cup grated Parmesan, divided
  • 1 tsp Italian seasoning
  • 1/2 tsp crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
  • 1 tbsp olive oil
  • Salt and black pepper to taste
  • Fresh basil or flat-leaf parsley, for serving

Instructions

  1. Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook penne 2 minutes shy of package directions (it will finish in the oven). Drain and set aside.
  2. Brown the beef. Heat olive oil in a large oven-safe skillet or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add ground beef, breaking it apart, and cook until browned, about 6–8 minutes. Drain excess fat.
  3. Build the sauce. Reduce heat to medium. Add onion to the beef and cook until softened, 3–4 minutes. Add garlic, Italian seasoning, and red pepper flakes; stir 1 minute. Pour in marinara sauce, season with salt and pepper, and simmer 5 minutes.
  4. Combine. Preheat oven to 375°F. Remove skillet from heat. Stir in drained penne and ricotta until evenly combined. Fold in 1 cup of mozzarella and 1/4 cup of Parmesan.
  5. Top and bake. Scatter remaining mozzarella and Parmesan evenly over the top. Bake uncovered 18–20 minutes, until cheese is melted and beginning to bubble and brown at the edges.
  6. Rest and serve. Let stand 5 minutes before serving. Finish with torn fresh basil or chopped parsley.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 540 | Protein: 34g | Fat: 19g | Carbs: 57g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 730mg

Loretta Simms
About the cook who shared this
Loretta Simms
Week 201 of Loretta’s 30-year story · Birmingham, Alabama
Loretta is a fifty-six-year-old pastor's wife in Birmingham, Alabama, who has been feeding her church and her community for thirty-four years. She lost her teenage son Jeremiah in a car accident, and she cooked through the grief because that is what Loretta does — she feeds people. Every funeral, every homecoming, every Wednesday night supper. If you are hurting, Loretta will show up at your door with a casserole and she will not leave until you eat.

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